Empathy
by tyrannosaurus lex. luthor
Summary: When a formerly irrelevant figure from Snake's past comes back to haunt him, chaos ensues. Now, the smasher's lives hang in the balance, suspended by a thin line of trust. How far will Snake go to keep the smashers alive? What will it cost him? Rating may change. Contains a bit of Snakus.


Solid Snake was enjoying a relatively quiet Sunday afternoon for the first time in as long as he could remember. After an exceptionally long tournament yesterday evening and a decent amount of sleep until noon, he woke up to find the Mansion mostly empty. Snake sat up in bed and retrieved his bandana on the nightstand then shook his head, attempting to clear the cobwebs in his brain, the result of a mild concussion he'd received from a headbutt the previous evening; courtesy of Captain the fucking Falcon.

The cobwebs cleared slowly but Snake elected to settle back on the pillow next to him rather than get out of bed, still feeling too disoriented to get dressed for the day. His nostrils flared with a quiet groan, remembering the match. Team battle was not his favorite, specifically since you have to rely on someone else to watch you back, which nobody seemed willing to do. Most smashers would go off God-knows-where while leaving him to fend for himself. Of course they one the match, but still, a lot of pain could have been avoided if these people used tactics. He much rather preferred free-for-all.

Reluctantly, he pulled his aching body out of bed then put on a pair of comfortable black jeans and a v-necked t-shirt. He was just about to wash up in his bathroom when suddenly...

His Codec rang...

Warning bells went off in his head. Very few people knew his specific frequency, and he couldn't think of a reason why any of them would radio him at this this hour. With suspicion, he reluctantly answered... "Yes?"

"_How much is she worth to you…"_ a voice spoke. It sounded raspy and slightly gargled and bitter... Almost resentful, as if offended, yet threatening at the same time. A voice, he didn't recognize.

"What?" Snake asked, confused.

"_The blonde. How much is she worth to you?"_

"Who is this?" Snake demanded, narrowing his eyes.

_"What about that swordsman? The one with the blue hair and the bandana? I'm sure you two aren't best buds but I've noticed you two seem to have a friendly rivalry."_

_"_Who_ is _this_."_

_"It's ironic, really. The person you wronged the most, yet you don't even know who I am."_

_"_Wronged?" He asked, growing angry. "I don't even know you!"

_"No, you don't. We've never even met. However, I know you, _David_." It was a statement and a threat._

"What do you want?"

"_Compensation."_

"You want money?" He asked cynically. "You've obviously done your research on me, you should know I don't have anything to give—"

_"No. Not money."_

"Then what _do_ you want?"

_"Revenge."_

"What?"

_"Tell me, did it ever occure to you that maybe, just maybe, not everyone on Shadow Moses Island was there of there own free will?"_

Yes, the thought had crossed his mind quite a few times—and it had made his job all the more difficult. Before he could answer though, the man continued. _"They had my family! Those monsters, they took everything and said they would only release them if me and my unit brought you in! They didn't even mean it... They didn't even want us to capture you! They had their own plans for you! They were just toying with us for their own enjoyment! And when we couldn't find you, they punished us."_ There was a long, painful pause on the other end, and Snake couldn't help but feel sympathy and a little bit of guilt._ "My house, my job, my family and friends—I lost everything, because I just couldn't find you! Do you know what it's like? To lose everything because of something completely out of your control? To be used, and then cast aside? To be _nothing_?"_

Snake cringed, unpleasant memories coming back to mind. "I do, actually... More than you know... I'm sorry." He said truthfully.

"_I don't want your _sympathy_, I want _empathy_! My entire life was taken away, and it's all your fault! You don't even know the meaning of pain—of loneliness! But you _will_... If you look into your weapons cashe, you'll find some... Things missing."_

His head perked up, and he instantly crossed the distance to his cashe, which he found to be unlocked. He rummaged through the contents, tossing deadly weapons and equipment to and fro—his lack of safty precaution surprising even himself—only to find everything in order. And then came the last compartment—a space reserved for only explosives...

Empty.

C4, mines, grenades—the whole shebang—all gone, including the detonation device. "_That's right. I'm going to tell you how this is going to work... From here on, I'll be giving you subtle hints and clues of some poor soul in that building who I'm going to kill. The clues could a song or a poem, or even something completely retarded. And you'll have twenty minutes to figure it out. After that you'll have another twenty minutes to either search for me, or protect my next kill. Afterward, you'll go back to your room, and it will happen again and again, until every smasher is dead."_

Snake querked a brow, a smile playing at his lips. Did this man have a death wish? "These people are the universe's greatest fighter. Some of them are superhuman, some of them are gods. Even if I can't find you, what makes you think you'll even have a chance at killing them?"

"_Simple, really. I have all of your explosives placed around the mansion, I have bugs set in every room, and I have cameras in every corner. If you try warning anyone, boom. If you try defusing the explosives, boom. If you even go passed your allotted time, boom. Your friends will have to find out on their own."_

A chill gripped him, and whatever hope remaining inside him quickly faded. With courage he didn't even feel, shakily he muttered, "This is between us... The smashers had nothing to do with what happened on Shadow Moses Island! You can kill me, but leave the rest of them out of it. _Please_!"

_"This isn't over until either every smasher is dead, or you stop me. Otherwise, I would only consider letting them live if you died."_

Well, there was a simple answer to all of this. All he had to do was put a bullet in his mouth. He'd been prepared to do that for years.

"_And_ _don't even think about suicide. You will have to die by someone else's hand. If you even hold a gun close to your head—"_

"Yeah yeah, boom. I get it."

"Good. And you might want to get started. Time is running out."

* * *

Author's Note: Interesting? Retarded? Keep Going? Scrap the idea?

I was listening to Boulevard of Broken dreams by Green Day, and suddenly this popped into my head, oddly enough. I've be wanting to do a suspense fic, so I said hey, why not? If like the idea or you think its retarded, if you think I should keep going or scrap the idea, please tell me in a review or message me. I mostly update the works that get the most feed back, so let's shoot for at least 5 reviews and I'll bump this up my list of priorities.

Also, I'm making most of this up as I go along and I have a feeling I might be going out of MGS canon with this OC villain. A couple Co-authors or at least someone to Beta this would be **VERY MUCH APPRECIATED**. If anyone has the time to spare, I could really use some help.


End file.
